


My Heart With You

by nojamhands



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Post-World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nojamhands/pseuds/nojamhands
Summary: After the war.





	My Heart With You

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm (legally) watching the final series now, and I have a lot of feels. Thus, this little thinglet came into existence.

The cold.

Even after returning home several years ago, the cold was still what struck Louisa the hardest; the cold and the dark, both of which seemed to be in huge supply throughout the war.

Louisa knew she should be grateful that her family had come out of the war unscathed, but not knowing the fates of her second family in her beloved Corfu had plagued her conscience since the day she stepped off the boat. She knew getting news would be next to impossible, even with Larry’s connections, but she had still held a tiny shred of hope inside her. She thought if there was some news coming in from Corfu, then maybe everything wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

Of course, this spark of hope slowly extinguished as the conflict became more serious and circumstances became more dire. Eventually she was forced to make herself skip portions of daily news. Her heartbreak over the atrocities happening all over Europe were bad enough, but reading about the state of Greece and its people made the awfulness of it all too overwhelming to bear.

One thing in particular nagged at her above all others.

_Will Spiros be fighting?_

Louisa knew his innate desire to do the right thing would be in constant conflict with his innate need to protect his family and his people.

Even all these years later, it still brought a searing pain to her chest when she recalled his refusal to flee. She didn’t fault him—how could she—but knowing that he would never leave paired with the current state of her home caused her to never feel warm, no matter how many sweaters she wore or fires were in the hearth.

She shivered from her seat at the kitchen table; her mug of tea gone cold in her hands. She rose to dump the liquid into the sink when she saw the postman coming up the walk. Her eyes grew wide as dinner plates.

Though the war had officially ended months ago, she’d still not heard from Larry which had only added to her perpetual state of worry and anxiety. Shehad allowed herself a brief glance at the headlines exclaiming the liberation of Greece, but Larry had yet to write her with any details.

She opened the door before the delivery man had a chance to knock, and the look on his face when she did so gave her a moment’s pause.

She smoothed her hair and gave an awkward chuckle. “Yes, hello. Good morning. My apologies for the abrupt welcome.”

The postman cleared his throat and gave her a hesitant smile. “Ah good morning, Madam.” He reached into his bag and handed her several envelopes that looked rather old. “Apologies for the late deliveries. Many letters from overseas were nearly lost. We only just recovered a great deal of them.”

“Lost? But how?”

“Well, Madam, the service was quite…overwhelmed by the number of letters that came pouring in after the war. It was a dreadful mess to sort out. I can only imagine that something of a similar nature happened from the place of origin.”

Not trusting herself to examine the letters in the postman’s presence, Louisa nodded and thanked him for the delivery.

Once she shut the door, she took a deep breath and looked at the three letters in front of her.

All from Larry, the oldest dating back nearly 3 months. The next must have been sent shortly after based on the post date, and the latest was only from a few weeks prior. She tore open the oldest envelope.

> _ Dear Mother, _
> 
> _ It is hard to get news here, especially anything that might shed a bad light on the Axis powers despite the war’s end. We still have to be careful what we say and to whom for fear of being assaulted by those who still support the cause. Moreover my duties during the war put me more at risk. Sadly not everyone who was guilty of being an ally of Hitler was part of the military. _
> 
> _ I write to you now just as a brief confirmation that I am safe and well. Corfu has been liberated and the people are in recovery. The island is not the same, but I know you’ll agree that the people are sturdy enough to recreate what was before this nightmare of a conflict. _
> 
> _ I also felt it was my duty to inform you that it has been quite some time since I have heard from or seen Spiros, but please do not panic or fret, Mother. The names of the dead are posted regularly or spread by mouth (you know the gossips here) and I have not heard his name come up in that context either. Still, I wanted to prepare you for whatever may come next. _
> 
> _ I know you long to return, but it is not yet safe. I promise that I will write again when I hear more of Spiros and when it is safe to travel._
> 
> _ All my love to G, M, and L (begrudgingly),_
> 
> _ Larry_

Louisa braced her back against the door and slid down to the ground. Picturing the devastation of the island made her knees weak. And no news of Spiros…

Her head was spinning so she allowed herself to sit on the ground, clutching the letter to her chest.

_Don’t fret or panic_, she repeated to herself as she slowly opened the second envelope. She let out a small sob when she saw the first line.

> _Dear Mother,_
> 
> _ I’ve had news of Spiros. He is alive and well. A little worse for wear, but otherwise fine. I don’t need to tell you how fortune this makes him; many families around the island cannot say the same. His children are also well. Dimitra and Spiros agreed that they would all be safer with her mother. They have all returned and are pleasant enough with one another, though it is obvious that things are truly finished with Dimitra and Spiros. _
> 
> _ The islanders are working hard to recover. I think you would share my bittersweet feelings at the sight of our home in shambles, but being slowly put back together by its formidable people._
> 
> _ Will write again if I have any more news,_
> 
> _ Larry_

Louisa was very grateful she was already on the floor, for she knew she would have collapsed on the spot while reading this letter.

_They’re safe_.

She wept silently on the floor of her home, back pressed against the front door. Her tears only stopped when she remembered the third letter. With trembling hands, she opened it and gasped.

> _Dear Louisa,_

She stopped reading.

A letter.

A letter from Spiros.

A letter from Spiros dated only a few weeks prior.

She took a deep, steadying breath and balled her hands into fists to ease the trembling, then continued to read.

> _Dear Louisa, _
> 
> _ Dear Louisa. My dear Louisa. _

Louisa had to stop once more, blurred vision interfering with her reading. She sniffled and wiped her tears away.

> _How lovely it is to write your name. I am thinking Larrys has told you that the news is hard to know here, so when he tells me that he has written you but you have not written back, I am worried. I write to you hoping that you are alive and well. I know Larrys feels confident that you are safe where you are, but I need more than just hope._

Louisa’s heart broke thinking that Spiros feared for her life; wondering if she were alive or dead.

> _I am alive and well, which I think Larrys has told you. The island is not the same. So much sadness for everyone. But having you here I think would make all things less woozy. _
> 
> _ Please write. Let us know how you are. To think that I might have lived through all the war only for you to be taken is more painful than all Greek tragedy._
> 
> _ Goodbye for now, agápi mou._
> 
> _Spiros_

Louisa’s heart fluttered. He was alive and thinking of her.

_Agápi mou_, he’d said.

She wished now more than ever she had a way to communicate with them instantly. Writing a letter now wouldn’t reach them for weeks. No, she had waited long enough. She was done feeling cold. Done feeling lonely. Done living with a sense of loss hanging over her. She jumped to her feet and raced into her bedroom.

* * *

The journey hadn’t been easy. Even still, months later, the government was wary of individuals who wanted to leave the country. Louisa had hoped that her previous travels to Corfu would help her speed things along, but her hopes were quickly dashed after hours waiting to get a ticket just like all the other humans gathered at the port.

When she was finally on her way, she began to feel nervous. What if Spiros and Larry had come to look for her? What if one of her other children suddenly needed her? Gerry was under Margo’s care and was old enough to be self-sufficient, but Louisa still fretted over her children.

Her nerves eased, however, as soon as the island came into sight. Her joy was tarnished by the landscape’s war trauma, but her delight at being back in her true home would not be eclipsed by any sadness she felt.

Stepping off the boat, Louisa felt more grounded and at peace than she had in years, despite the changes all around her. She took in the scene in front of her and breathed in the salty air she had missed so much.

She whipped around when she heard the “ah-OOO-gah,” of a car horn, but wilted when she saw it was a stranger. Grabbing the few things she brought with her, she set off down the road.

When she had first arrived in Corfu, it had seemed an ordeal to walk this way, but now it was something akin to bliss. She had craved this place for so many years, and to have every ounce of it surrounding her once more was indescribable.

All she lacked were the men she had missed so much.

* * *

“Spiros…” Larry said in a voice that indicated he’d had this exact conversation many times before. “Mother will be alright. You slaving away at our old house isn’t going to change any outcomes.”

Spiros continued hammering away. “Your mother would want your home to be a place of welcome. A shelter for the people who need it.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, I’m just saying that drowning your feelings in house repairs isn’t going to summon mother here. And if anything has happened—”

“Don’t,” Spiros cut him off with a warning tone. “I will not think of it.”

Larry threw up his hands in exasperation. “Then why am I spending all this bloody time having to reassure you that all is well in England?”

Spiros merely scoffed and returned to his work.

Larry rolled his eyes. “Well if you’re so intent on renovating this shack, at least let me help.”

Spiros quirked an eyebrow at him. “You…help?”

Larry looked at him with offense. “Don’t sound so surprised! The war changed me, too, you know.”

This was enough for Spiros it seemed. He nodded and then gave Larry a to-do list.

They had been working for some time before one of them spoke again.

“When did you know?” Larry asked, clearing away detritus that had accumulated in the kitchen.

“Know what?”

“When you loved mother.”

The cadence of Spiros’ hammering sputtered for a moment before resuming its rhythm. Spiros remained quiet for a few more beats.

“Too soon.”

Larry gave him a confused glance. “Too soon? It’s been years, Spiros. How can it be too soon to ask about this?”

Spiros shook his head. “No, not too soon to ask. I loved her too soon.”

Larry still looked perplexed, so Spiros continued. “When I met your family on the road, I knew Mrs. Durrells was special. I could feel it,” he paused. “I did not intend to let things happen as they did. But my wife and I had not been happy for some time.”

Larry nodded. “We never knew what to think of your wife. To be honest, we thought she might be made up or dead because we never saw her.”

Spiros grimaced. “I hate to thinks that was your thought on her because of me. She was the light of my life once. But…”

“People change,” Larry finished.

“Yes. And sometimes they change together and sometimes they change apart. Most Greeks just live with the feeling of…ah, dystychís?”

“Unhappiness?”

“Yes. It is just what we know. I would have done that if your family had not been on the road that day…” he trailed off.

Larry could tell that this was probably the first time Spiros had spoken with anyone about this. And knowing that Larry was Louisa’s son made things even more difficult to discuss.

“I am not happy with how things ended with my wife,” Spiros continued, “but I do not regret finding Louisa. Without her, I never would have found true happiness. I would have been content to live in unhappiness for the rest of my life, but Louisa saved me.”

_Louisa._

Hearing his mother’s name instead of “Mrs. Durrells” was still a bit of a shock to Larry.

“Well, just so you know,” Larry said, clearing his throat to conceal the lump of emotion that had formed there, “you saved us as well. Her most of all. We never thought she would be joyful again after father, but you brought the life back into her, especially before she left.”

Spiros grimaced again. “It still pains me to think about that time.”

“I know.”

The men shared a look of mutual appreciation and continued their work.

* * *

Not knowing where else to go, Louisa had walked toward her old house. It was not a short journey, but she had all the time in the world. She knew that once she arrived, she would start straightaway on finding Larry and Spiros.

She was exhausted, but she knew she was getting close. When the house was finally in her sight, the sounds of construction stopped her in her tracks.

_Who could possibly be here working?_ she wondered anxiously.

She crept slowly toward the house, trying to determine what unwelcome guest might be inhabiting her home.

Then she saw Larry.

“Larry!” she screamed, dropping her things to the ground and racing toward him. He spun on his heel, his eyes big as the moon.

Louisa slammed into him and he lifted her off the ground in a strong hug.

“Mother!” he exclaimed, half in shock and half in glee. “What? How?”

He set her down. She was beaming up at him. “I just received your letters and I traveled here as soon as I could.”

His jaw dropped. “You just got them? No bloody wonder you haven’t written. Bloody mail system….” he grumbled. “But wait. If you just got them, then that means you—”

“Hopped on the next ferry, yes,” Louisa confirmed.

Larry shook his head in amazement. “You never stop surprising me, Mother.”

Louisa continued to beam at him. “I’m so glad I’ve already found you. That will make finding Sp—”

“Larrys? I need your help with the sweepings,” Spiros cut Louisa off as he wandered outside to find Larry.

He froze when he spotted the woman standing with her son. When she smiled shyly at him and looked away, the tools he was holding clattered out of his hands.

Without realizing it, he found himself walking quickly toward her, and before he knew it she was in his arms.

They both held each other tightly, taking in the feel of each other’s bodies and scents once more.

“Is this real?” Spiros whispered to her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yes,” Louisa breathed back, silent tears already falling down her cheeks.

Spiros pulled away and held her face in his hands. Louisa nestled her cheek into one of his palms.

“Agápi mou,” he murmured, touching his forehead to hers.

Louisa brought her hands up to his face. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Spiros pulled her flush against him, their faces only inches apart. “I will never let you go again, my love. Louisa.”

He let the sound of her name on his lips settle over them both for a moment before closing the small distance between them with a sizzling kiss.

Louisa had thought their final kisses on the beach before they separated could not have been more filled with love, loss, and longing. But she was learning that kisses with Spiros could hold all of that ardor ten fold and more. Hope. Faith.

Warmth.

As their kisses grew deeper and more passionate, Louisa felt the coldness that had lived inside her all these years thaw away, from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head.

She was whole again.

She was home again.


End file.
